


House Arrest

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Heidegger being a prick, M/M, No Angst, SOLDIER shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: When Heidegger and President Shinra decide to put Sephiroth under house arrest, it falls to the Turks to carry out the order. Cloud Strife, the Turks’ newest recruit, volunteers for what is likely to be a suicide mission.For FF7 Secret Santa 2019
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 18
Kudos: 317
Collections: FF7 Secret Santa 2019





	House Arrest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asylos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylos/gifts).



> Hi Asylos! I love your work so I was happy to get you as my Secret Santa person :) 
> 
> You requested a SOLDIER boy and a Turk. I went a little out of bounds and decided to make Cloud a Turk. I hope that’s okay and that you enjoy this story!

**Chapter 1**

“You wish to take disciplinary action against  _ Sephiroth?” _

Ordinarily Tseng would never speak out of turn in a Shina Board meeting. But this was not an ordinary topic. 

“Yes,” Heidegger said, puffing out his chest. “He disobeyed a direct order and must feel the consequences.” 

“Indeed,” President Shinra said. “As a result of his actions, both Shinra’s public image and profit margin have suffered.” 

Tseng did not think that Sephiroth’s actions in Junon were all that unreasonable, and given that he’d saved a number of civilians from certain death, it had probably not been all that detrimental to Shinra’s public image. However, fighting with the rampaging WEAPON at the underwater Junon reactor rather than in the city streets certainly had eaten into Shinra’s profit margin, if only temporarily. 

“How on earth do you plan to discipline Sephiroth?” Scarlet asked. She was leaning back in her chair, toying idly with an emory board, but Tseng knew her well enough to know her full attention was on the issue at hand.

“For now, he’s to be confined to his apartment in Shinra Tower,” Heidegger said. He was clearly enjoying the situation--the fact that most people saw Sephiroth as the leader of SOLDIER constantly irked his pride. He must have been thrilled to have the opportunity to take Sephiroth down a notch.

“By you and what army?” Scarlet asked, raising a sculpted eyebrow. 

“Internal disciplinary actions are to be handled by the Department of Administrative Research,” President Shinra said. 

“You...can’t be serious,” Tseng said. 

“I am always serious,” President Shinra said. “I expect obedience from the Turks, not complaints. Don’t give me reason to doubt your team’s competence, Tseng.” 

Tseng nodded. As someone who made a lot of threats, he knew one when he heard one. “Yes, sir. It will be done.” 

“Good luck,” Scarlet drawled, looking amused. “You’re gonna need it.” 

#

“Oh Gaia,” Reno wailed. “I’m too young and beautiful to die.” 

“You don’t know that it’s going to be you,” Cissnei muttered, kicking him in the shin. Tseng pretended not to see it. 

“We’re going to draw straws,” Tseng said. “All of us. I will take one as well. Understood?” 

Rude nodded his quiet assent and Cissnei sighed. 

“I’m leaving everything to that hot chick in AVALANCHE we keep trying to catch,” Reno declared, oblivious to the dirty look Rude gave him. “And when I’m dead, my final wish is that someone go tell Zack Fair to fuck himself.” 

“What did Zack do to you?” Cissnei asked, at the same time that Rude muttered, “Quit being so dramatic.”

The door slid open and Cloud walked through, his dark suit slightly disheveled and his hair its usual mess of spikes. He was the Turks’ newest member, having joined only about a year ago, and in that time he’d proven to be very, very good at his job, which was the only reason Tseng let him get away with constant tardiness. 

“Hey,” Cloud said, joining them. “What’d I miss?”

“We have a new mission,” Tseng said. “President Shinra has requested that we place Sephiroth under house arrest.” 

“Translation: Sephiroth is going to fucking kill one of us,” Cissnei added. 

“There is some risk involved,” Tseng said. “Therefore, we will draw straws to see who will take on this responsibility.” 

“Sounds like fun,” Cloud said. “I’ll do it.” 

All four of the other Turks, Tseng included, were speechless for a moment, staring at him. As usual, it was Reno who recovered first. 

“Cloudy, I could fuckin kiss you right now,” he said, grinning. “Way to take one for the team.” 

“You’re sure,” Tseng said, softly. 

Cloud met his eyes, and there was a soft glow to his gaze that always made Tseng wonder what exactly Hojo had done with him in the years before he became a Turk. Cloud didn’t remember any of it, and Tseng was under strict orders not to remind him.

“You bet,” Cloud said, with a cocky smile, putting a hand on Reno’s chest to hold him back from a celebratory smooch. “Seriously, don’t kiss me, Reno. I got a job to do.”

**Chapter 2**

Sephiroth allowed himself the luxury of a very long shower. Even though he’d had a few spare minutes to quickly bathe in Junon after the fight with the WEAPON, he still felt like he had monster gunk in his hair. So he took the time to brush it out, enjoying the steam and heat on his pleasantly tired muscles. The fight had been a challenge, and Shiva knew there were few enough of those. 

After his shower, he dressed and brushed his hair again, letting it fall down his back still damp. 

He opened the door to the next room and paused in the doorway, startled.

“Hey.” The Turk currently lounging on Sephiroth’s sofa looked up at him and nodded a greeting. He was vaguely familiar, but Sephiroth couldn’t recall his name. “Sup?” 

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. “You’re in my apartment.” 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure am.” The Turk met his eyes with an aggravating lack of fear. “You might wanna check your phone.” 

Sephiroth stepped back into the bedroom, took his phone off the dresser, and looked at the dozen or so emails he’d been ignoring. He opened the one from President Shinra and skimmed the memo inside. 

“I’m under house arrest,” he said flatly. 

“Yup.” The Turk’s unhelpful response was full of good cheer. He was still sprawled on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world, but Sephiroth didn’t miss the broadsword propped up against the wall nearby. 

He put the phone down and headed for the front door. He had an appointment with Hojo at the labs, and this was just ridiculous.

In a movement almost too quick to follow, the Turk was up off the couch and standing in his way. The top of the tallest spike of his blonde hair was still six inches shorter than Sephiroth, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sephiroth said. 

“I think that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to anyone,” the Turk replied. But he didn’t budge. 

Sephiroth tried to push him aside, but the Turk was slippery, eluding his grasp while somehow managing to remain in the way of his exit. And when Sephiroth was finally annoyed enough to throw a punch, the Turk dodged with a quickness and ease that should have been impossible. 

“I feel like you meant that one,” the Turk said, and answered it with a fist to Sephiroth’s gut, which only landed because it was so unexpected. There was some power behind it too, despite the Turk’s diminutive size. 

Sephiroth attacked in earnest. It was a struggle, and by the end of the fight he could feel a few places on his body where there might even be short lived bruises, but he quickly pinned the Turk underneath him. 

“Holy fucking Shiva,” the Turk said, grinning like he hadn’t just lost a fight. “You do bleed.” 

Sephiroth pressed his hand to his lip and found that he was indeed bleeding a little. Impressive. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Name’s Cloud Strife.” Cloud leaned back and looked up at him, considering. “Hey, how about you stay in and we order something to eat. Buy me dinner and I won’t tell everyone you let me hit you in the face.” 

Sephiroth took a moment to consider it. “Fine,” he said. “For now.” 

He wanted to know more about this strange Turk, and how in hell he’d been able to match Sephiroth when even Genesis would struggle to accomplish the same. 

It turned out few answers were forthcoming, but dinner was at least companionable. Enjoyable, even. Cloud Strife was interesting to talk to, and easygoing in a way that put Sephiroth at ease as well. It was actually the most pleasant dinner conversation he’d had in a long time. 

**Chapter 3**

Cloud was a light sleeper, which had always been something of a curse. He woke up when the wind moaned and howled around his mother’s small, creaky house in Nibelheim. He woke up when his roommates (Reno and Rude) stumbled home drunk in the middle of the night. He woke up for pretty much everything, and as a result, rarely got a full night of sleep. 

Last night was the worst, though. Sephiroth went to bed at a normal time like a normal person, but only slept for about two hours. Then he got up, prowled around his apartment without bothering to try and be quiet for his uninvited guest, did paperwork, played chess against himself, read, spent a ridiculously long time brushing his hair, and then finally settled in for a few more hours close to dawn. 

It was during that second blissful stretch of silence that Cloud was awoken by a loud pounding on the front door. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling his pillow over his head, but that wasn’t enough to block out the nasally voice coming through the wall. 

“Sephiroth! Get up, Sephiroth. This is utterly ridiculous. Where have you been?” 

Cloud groaned, throwing his pillow at the door. “Fuck off, you old bat.” 

“Sephiroth! I’m losing patience.”

Cloud groped around for something else to throw, his fingers closing around Sephiroth’s “Ten Years of Shina Service” award. He chucked it in the direction of the offensive noise without opening his eyes. 

“You are literally the worst,” Sephiroth said, and before Cloud could focus his bleary vision, his pillow hit him square in the face, followed by the clunky glass award, cushioned just enough by the pillow to not break his nose. 

“Hey, that still hurt,” he said, but Sephiroth ignored him, opening the door. 

“You look uninjured,” Hojo said, with a cool, assessing glance. “I assume you have a good reason for missing your appointment?” 

“I’m under house arrest,” Sephiroth said. “If you read your emails, you would know that.”

“That is utterly absurd,” Hojo said, scowling.

“And yet here we are,” Sephiroth observed dryly. “Take it up with the President, Hojo.” 

“Don’t think I won’t. In the meantime, I’ll have a few things sent up from the lab. Most of the examination can be done here, anyway.” 

A fine line of tension went through Sephiroth’s body, but he simply nodded. 

Hojo’s assistant brought up a bunch of syringes, some weird wires hooked up to monitors, and a notebook. Cloud sat in the living room, wondering if he should put on some headphones, because it felt oddly intimate to be listening in on the conversation that was taking place on the other side of Sephiroth’s bedroom door. 

But at the same time, he was wildly curious. 

“I’m just going to draw some blood,” Hojo was saying. 

“Fine.” Sephiroth’s voice was even more impassive than usual. 

“How was the mission in Junon?” 

“Good,” Sephiroth said. “I liked fighting the WEAPON.” 

“Any injuries?” 

“Minimal. A puncture wound to the right side of my chest. A gash on my left thigh. A few fractures in my wing.” 

_ Wait, what? _

“How quickly did they heal?” 

“Two days.” 

“Hmm.” A soft shushing sound, like someone was pacing. “How does it feel to be under house arrest?” 

“Aggravating.” 

Cloud tried not to laugh. Sephiroth sounded like a moody teenager who didn’t want to talk to his dad about his feelings. 

“Yes, I can see that it would be.” The pacing stopped. “And the dreams?” 

“I...haven’t had any since I came back from Junon.” 

“Good. Good. Lean your head back and let me look in your eyes.” There were a few beats of silence, then Hojo said, “You must tell me if the dreams return.”

“I will.” 

“Very good. I’ll get this blood down to the lab. And Sephiroth…” 

“Yes?”

“I expect you to call me the next time you are injured. I don’t care if you are at the bottom of Northern Crater.”

“Worried about your experiment, Hojo?” There was a bitter undercurrent to Sephiroth’s words that set Cloud on edge.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Hojo said sharply, sounding for all the world like an aggravated parent. 

Sephiroth said nothing, but he must have nodded or something, because Hojo let it go. They discussed some kind of new discovery of Hojo’s next, using terms and acronyms Cloud had never heard. 

Hojo ignored Cloud on the way out, just as he’d ignored Cloud on the way in, muttering something about a “failed experiment,” saying, “at least it’s good for something.” Cloud had no idea what that meant, so he let it go. Life was easier in Shinra if you didn’t dwell on stuff--he’d learned that from Zack Fair. 

**Chapter 4**

All told, Sephiroth was under house arrest for five days, before the Shinra brass decided they needed him to go fight another WEAPON. It was something of a relief, but he also found himself oddly disappointed. He had grown accustomed to Cloud’s company, and genuinely enjoyed their conversations. While he was glad to have his own space back, he knew there were few reasons he might spend time with Cloud again. Cloud was a Turk, after all, and that meant he was both untrustworthy and generally discouraged from forming friendships with SOLDIERs.

There would be no more opportunities to talk late into the night, Sephiroth polishing the Masamune and Cloud sprawled on the sofa with a beer in his hand. He’d actually told Cloud how the sword was summoned and how it came to be his. And in return, Cloud had disassembled his own sword to show Sephiroth the removable blades. 

Sephiroth would probably never again have the chance to cook breakfast while Cloud was still asleep on the couch and watch him wake up eagerly to the smell of bacon. He would never again catch Cloud’s wrist as he tried to pilfer a piece, which, two days ago, had led to a hand-to-hand sparring match in the confines of the small apartment. 

His quiet apartment wasn’t the same without Cloud Strife. He wasn’t sure what the sinking feeling in his chest was when Cloud said a final goodbye, but he didn’t like it. 

He did his best to clear away the useless thoughts as he walked through Shinra Tower, ready for the mission. 

Zack Fair met him at the helicopter pad, waving to him from across the stretch of concrete. 

“They call it Diamond Weapon,” he said, by way of greeting, stowing a very large sword case in the back of the bird. “I call it a mean motherfucker.” 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was a solo mission.” 

“Yeah, well…” Zack shrugged, looking sheepish. “I know you’re like, freakishly strong. But I don’t want you to die. So I got you some backup. Don’t tell the brass, okay?” 

“Backup?” 

“Hey.” Cloud’s head poked out of the open helicopter door. “I’m not supposed to go with you, so keep it quiet.” 

Sephiroth nodded, feeling a quiet rush of warmth at the thought that Cloud was breaking regulations to accompany him. 

“Okay.” Zack slapped the side of the helicopter. “You two have fun.” 

**Chapter 5**

Fighting by Sephiroth’s side felt like flying. Not like actual flying, like Sephiroth was doing, but close enough. They complemented each other perfectly, Cloud’s brute force approach breaking through the WEAPON’s outer shell so Sephiroth could use his reach and disciplined finesse to strike at the heart beneath. 

The wing had caught him by surprise when it first appeared, but that shock quickly faded. It seemed a natural part of Sephiroth, a logical extension of his body. Sephiroth was human enough, but not entirely, and maybe Cloud should have found that off-putting but he didn’t. 

Cloud had no sense of how long the battle took, only that his body barely felt the fatigue, adrenaline thrumming through his veins and something else sparking when he looked up to see Sephiroth attacking from the air or on the ground nearby. The Masamune moved so quickly it became a blur, flashing every time the blade caught the light.

He’d been in fights all his life, but it had never been so exhilarating, had never had this sense of  _ rightness, _ like a key fitting into a lock and unleashing something neither of them had been aware of. 

When the WEAPON finally fell with an earth shaking thud, Cloud grinned in triumph, sprinting to where Sephiroth stood over it like a conquering hero. Like the hero everyone said he was. Cloud hadn’t really believed any of the stories until this moment. 

“We did it,” he said with a soft laugh. 

He wanted to make some kind of celebratory gesture, to release the energy still coiled in him despite the exhaustion he was starting to feel. He wasn’t sure what, but Sephiroth solved the problem for him, crossing the distance between them in a single step and grabbing one of the suspenders on Cloud’s SOLDIER uniform to pull him in for a kiss. 

And Cloud felt like he was flying all over again. 


End file.
